


Don't You Know Who I Am?!

by twothumbsandnostakeincanon (somanyofthekids)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Fluffy Ending, M/M, Model Peter Hale, Paparazzi, Peter values his privacy, Pregnancy, Snarky Stiles Stilinski, not Peter or Stiles someone else
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-12
Updated: 2018-11-12
Packaged: 2019-08-22 10:27:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16596095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somanyofthekids/pseuds/twothumbsandnostakeincanon
Summary: Stiles knew who Peter was.Everyone did. It was hard to miss the country’s biggest male supermodel, especially when he came from your own tiny hometown.So yeah, Stiles knew who Peter was. Knew what Peter did for a living, knew his close-mouthed reputation with the press, knew that the blind items were the gossip columnists way of getting back without getting sued.Stiles knew what he was getting into when Peter asked him on a date.He said yes, and he came armed.(A 5+1 story about who Stiles is to Peter)





	Don't You Know Who I Am?!

**Author's Note:**

> Y'all having a good Sunday? You want 2k of Stiles being a lil shit? Yeah you do.

Stiles knew who Peter was.

Everyone did. It was hard to miss the country’s biggest male supermodel, especially when he came from your own tiny hometown.

So yeah, Stiles knew who Peter was. Knew what Peter did for a living, knew his close-mouthed reputation with the press, knew that the blind items were the gossip columnists way of getting back without getting sued.

Stiles _knew_ what he was getting into when Peter asked him on a date.

He said yes, and he came armed.

* * *

“Peter!! Peter Hale! Peter look over here! Peter who are you with tonight?”

Peter said nothing, doing his best to navigate the short space between the restaurant and the car without getting assault charges against the paparazzi blocking their path.

“Peter who is he? Who’s your date? Is he your boyfriend?”

The flashing lights were difficult to see through, but Stiles managed to keep up with Peter, staying in the wake of the bodyguards.

“Hale! Did you get a paternity test? Who’s the kid?”

Stiles watched Peter’s shoulders tense up even more, and wanted to deck the fucking photographer. Peter’s number one qualm with dating Stiles was their age difference; he knew exactly what it would look like from the magazines, and didn’t want to put Stiles through that.

“What’s his name?”

It had taken one long conversation, two walks, and four drinks for Stiles to remind him that the only thing worse than public opinion is allowing public opinion to control your choices.

“Who are you with?”

And Stiles knew he shouldn’t. Knew he really, really shouldn’t, because it would only encourage them. But then the pap who asked about the paternity test crowded in even further, and managed smack Stiles in the head with his lens.

Stiles reached out and snatched the camera away, handing it to one of the body guards.

“I’m his mother,” he snapped sarcastically to the crowd, sliding into the car after Peter and slamming the door in their faces. He turned his back to the door, facing Peter, ready to remind him that the age difference wasn’t actually that big, and didn’t matter to Stiles.

Instead he found Peter shaking with silent laughter.

It took a moment, but eventually he managed to cough out, “Mother?!”

Stiles grinned, shrugging.

“They don’t care about the truth. They wanted an answer, so I gave them one.”

Still laughing, Peter pulled Stiles to his side, kissing him soundly.

* * *

The magazine wanted to get a cozy feel for the piece, so Peter (wheedled, cajoled, and eventually threatened by his agent) agreed to have the interview in his home.

That morning he and the interviewer went for a tour around the house with the photographer while they talked. Peter had to pivot the personal questions about once every five minutes, but he’d had worse interviews.

They continued through the house, passing by the kitchen only to see someone sitting at the island, eating a bowl of Lucky Charms that looked to be mostly marshmallows.

Stiles lifted two fingers in greeting as he chewed.

“Hey.”

Peter smiled at him fondly, but pointedly didn’t enter the kitchen, so neither did the interviewer or the photographer. That didn’t mean they missed their chance completely.

“I didn’t realize you were living with someone,” the interviewer said leadingly.

“Nah, I don’t live here,” Stiles answered before Peter could shut her down. “I’m just here right now, and some other times too. Sometimes I’m not here, and sometimes I’m not not here, and sometimes I’m a whole bunch of places at once. Depends on how good Skype is working, though.”

Head spinning around that answer, the interviewer tried again.

“And who are you to Peter, exactly?”

“I’m his nutritionist,” Stiles said blandly, taking another bite of Lucky Charms.

The interviewer scoffed, taking a step into the kitchen.

“You hardly look-”

“Oh, would you look at that?” Peter interrupted. “I wanted to show you the bedroom but we’re all out of time.”

The interviewer looked shocked and a little confused.

“I thought we had until-”

“We’re all out of time,” Peter said firmly, with an icy look. “As you were informed by my agent, and reminded when you arrived, entering an off limits portion of the house is grounds for immediately ending the interview.” He looked at where the interviewer stood, decidedly inside the kitchen, and then gestured to the front door.

A few minutes later, Peter walked back to the kitchen and leaned up against the island opposite Stiles.

“Nutritionist, huh?”

“Your nutrition is very important to me,” Stiles offered easily. “I swallow, don’t I?

He barely dodged the light smack Peter sent his way, laughing the whole time.

* * *

Peter shook hands and kissed cheeks, schmoozed and flattered and generally played the game with perfect technique.

The dinner was technically celebrating some industry old-timer’s anniversary of something or other, but everyone knew it was more for networking than anything else. Stiles didn’t particularly care. He was just there to support Peter and peel the tux off of him at the end of the night.

Most of the night, Peter was right by his side. He introduced Stiles to everyone, making him known by his own merits rather than by his relationship to Peter.

Eventually though, Stiles’ social batteries began to wear out, and Peter could see the strain.

“I still need to talk to Wendy before we go,” he said apologetically.

“It’s fine,” Stiles soothed. “We’re here for your career. Go do career stuff. I’m just going to hide over there for a little bit while you finish up, okay?”

Peter looked adoringly at him before leaving with a promise to be quick.

Stiles got five entire minutes to himself in his hiding spot before someone found him.

“Oh, there you are!”

Stiles tried not to cringe.

He turned around, recognizing a man he’d met earlier in the night. Some entertainment news show host with more hair than tact. Mulligan? Morrigan? Marlin?

“You disappeared! I wondered if maybe you were paid by the hour and Peter’s meter ran out,” he said with what he clearly considered to be a winning smile.

Stiles wondered how long he’d keep his show if he were missing teeth.

“No, Peter’s much more responsible than that,” Stiles answered easily, despite his clenched fists hidden in the pockets of his trousers. “He pays weekly.”

“So you admit that you’re paid to be here,” maybe-Marvin pushed. “What kind of company does Peter pay you for?” he continued with a sharp, suggestive leer.

“Oh, a _very_ specialized kind of company,” Stiles purred out. “Company B of the 45th Infantry, Canadian Army.”

Merlin’s mouth flapped open.

_“What?”_

“I give tactical military advice for any situation that requires it.”

Martin’s sputtered for a moment.

“Tactical military advice? For a party?”

“Yes,” came Peter’s voice from over Stiles’ shoulder. “You of all people know how rough these parties can get. After all, didn’t the police have to come to your last one? Public intoxication, wasn’t it Todd?”

Stiles turned around with a quizzical look.

“Who?”

“ME,” Todd said through his teeth.

“Oh. Huh. Well, my advice right now would be a tactical retreat,” he told Peter. “Mrs. Harvey’s been staring at you all night and she just picked up her fourth drink. Bye Mason.”

Peter and Stiles walked from the room, giving one last goodbye to those by the door before disappearing into the night.

* * *

Lydia looked gorgeous with her belly as round as a beach ball, all dressed up for the baby shower.

“There’s a whole other entire _human_ in there,” Stiles said, awed, reaching out to touch until Cora appeared out of nowhere, smacking his hands away with a solid blow.

“Do Fucking Not,” she demanded.

“It’s okay, dear,” Lydia soothed. “I told him he could.”

Cora scowled, but moved back, allowing Stiles access to her two most precious people.

Stiles cautiously reached out again, keeping an eye on Cora.

“Had a lot of people touching without permission, huh?”

“Not more than once,” Lydia replied, a line of steel in her voice. Peter chuckled.

“How many people have had to have their hand reattached in the last 9 months?” he asked, only half joking.

“I don’t know what makes you think we let them have it back,” Cora said flippantly.

Before Peter could respond, he was interrupted by Talia hurrying over to say, “Everyone’s here, it’s time to open gifts!”

Lydia took her seat under the pastel yellow balloons, easing her way down gently with Cora’s help. Cora dutifully sat next to her, though it was clear she’d much rather be hanging out at the snack table.

Like Peter and Stiles currently were.

Stiles was methodically working his way around the entire crudité, while Peter answered emails and stole food from Stiles. They both had half an eye on the gift opening procedure, but were mostly wrapped up in each other, which is why they were both surprised when a woman poked herself into their little bubble.

“She looks gorgeous, doesn’t she?” the woman gushed.

“Oh, uh, yeah,” Stiles agreed, Peter nodding along with him.

“I’m Susan,” she said, sticking out her hand.

“Stiles,” he answered, shaking her hand. “That’s Peter.”

“How do you two know the happy couple?” Susan asked Stiles brightly.

“I went to school with both of ‘em,” Stiles said with a shrug. “They’ve been together forever. We were all in the GSA together.”

“Oh, so you’re gay too!”

“Well, it’s the gay/ _straight_ alliance,” Stiles said.

“So you’re not gay?”

“Uh-”

“Are you dating anyone?”

“Oh, um, I’m very flattered, but-”

“No no,” Susan said impatiently, “I don’t want to date you. I just thought you two might be a couple,” she said with an expectant look.

“You said your name was Susan?” Peter asked with shrewd suspicion. “How do _you_ know the girls?”

“Oh, you know…”

“No,” Peter said flatly. “Or I wouldn’t have asked. When did you receive your invitation?”

“... two weeks ago?”

Talia, the ever eager beaver, had sent out invites three months ago.

Peter and Stiles looked at each other grimly and then caught Derek and Laura’s attention, indicating that Susan needed to be escorted away.

Susan saw them coming, and looked back at Peter and Stiles, desperately saying, “No, no wait! I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have snuck in-”

“No shit,” Stiles said, angry red spots on his cheeks.

“- but I just need the answer to one question!! What are you two? Are you dating? Are you roommates?”

“Why do you need to know so badly?” Stiles asked, exasperated.

“TMZ is offering backstage passes to Katy Perry for the first person to confirm that you’re dating.” Her eyes looked wild. “I _need_ those tickets!!”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Peter said under his breath, turning around to immediately get on the phone with his agent.

Stiles took a deep breath as Derek and Laura arrived, each of them gripping one of her arms.

Just before they marched her off, Stiles said, “Hey, they want confirmation of us dating?”

“Yes!” she nodded enthusiastically, fruitlessly resisting Derek and Laura’s grip.

“Okay. I can confirm that we’ve never carbon dated anything.”

Her face froze.

“Now tell them to leave us the fuck alone,” Stiles growled, turning around to follow Peter.

* * *

They were seated at a table during the awards show, with two other couples.

Peter knew both of them, knew them to be polite and even charming company. They were quiet during the acts between awards, and laid back but funny during the breaks.

Before leaving the table to give one of the awards, Peter squeezed Stiles’ shoulder and excused himself.

Ravi, a former model turned actor, leaned over once Stiles was alone.

“How are you two doing?”

Stiles tensed. The night had been going so well, he’d _liked_ the people they were talking to-

“No, no,” Ravi said soothingly. “I don’t mean to pry at all. I don’t want to know anything you aren’t telling. I just heard there was an invasion of some sort. I wanted to know if the person, or people responsible were caught and given consequences.”

Stiles relaxed a little, nodding.

“Yeah. TMZ offered a reward for- I don’t know, just information I guess. My friend and Peter’s niece were having a baby shower and she snuck in. It was a frustrating mess, but we both have a restraining order now, and TMZ had to pay a huge fine.”

“Good,” Ravi said firmly. “I’m glad. Peter’s always been very private, and he’s had to fight for it. It’s good to see someone waging the battle with him.”

Stiles felt a warmth spread through him at the recognition that he was someone who stood with Peter, regardless of what their relationship was.

The lights dimmed once more, and Stiles could see Peter standing just off stage with an envelope. Peter glanced in his direction, obviously unable to see with the stage lights, but gave a smile anyway, the soft one he reserved just for Stiles.

“Besides,” Ravi whispered, leaning over one more time before the music started. “To anyone who knows Peter at all, it’s clear who you are.”

Stiles raised an eyebrow.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yes. You’re his favorite.”

* * *

They arrived at the little cottage in Iceland after a hard day of travel, tired but thrilled to be away together. Stiles disappeared for a quick shower to wash the travel off of him, while Peter put things away.

Just a moment later, the owner of the cottage knocked on the door to make sure everything was okay with their rental, and to make sure they could work the climate control.

“Are you here for the hiking?” she asked after briefly showing Peter around. “There are so many beautiful places for it here!”

“Yes, we’re going to do some hiking,” Peter confirmed. “We’re mostly here just to get away together, though. We’ve planned this trip for a while.”

The cottage owner smiled kindly.

“Oh, you’re here with someone else?”

Just then Stiles appeared, hair wet from the shower, slinging an arm around Peter’s waist with a smile.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Peter’s husband.”

**Author's Note:**

> It's real precious, you guys. I gotta go write some angst now lmao.


End file.
